𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈𝐬 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 / 𝐀𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧

Bruises

Aenys and Daeron stood facing each other in the courtyard of their family's castle, each holding a wooden sword. Aenys, the elder brother, was eager to prove his superiority over his younger sibling.

"Are you ready, little brother?" Aenys taunted, twirling his wooden sword with practiced ease.

Daeron nodded, a determined look on his face. "I'm ready." Truthfully, he was a bit scared and intimidated. Aenys trained daily, but he didn't.

The two brothers circled each other, each looking for an opening. Aenys lunged forward, swinging his sword in a powerful arc. Daeron blocked the blow but stumbled backward under the force of the impact.

Aenys grinned triumphantly, pressing his advantage. He rained down a flurry of blows on Daeron, who struggled to keep up. Finally, Aenys knocked his brother's sword from his hand, sending it clattering to the ground.

But instead of stopping, Aenys continued to press forward, swinging his wooden sword with even greater force. Daeron stumbled and fell to the ground, desperately trying to shield himself from the blows.

"Aenys, stop!" he cried, but his brother didn't seem to hear him. Aenys continued to rain down blows on his defenseless sibling, heedless of the damage he was causing.

Finally, Criston Cole stepped forward, shouting for Aenys to stop. Aenys reluctantly lowered his sword, breathing hard.

Daeron lay on the ground, bruised and battered. He looked up at his brother with a mixture of fear and betrayal.

"Why did you keep going idiot!" he asked, his voice shaking.

Aenys shrugged, a cold look in his eyes. "I wanted to prove that I was stronger than you. And I did."

Daeron looked away, embarrassed.

Aemond had been watching the fight from a distance. He had been pleased to see his sons practicing their swordplay, but when he saw Aenys continue to attack his younger brother even after he was disarmed, his satisfaction turned to anger.

"Aenys!" he bellowed, striding across the courtyard towards his son. "What in the Seven Hells do you think you're doing?"

Aenys looked up, startled. He had been so focused on his victory over Daeron that he hadn't noticed his father's approach.

"I was just sparring with Daeron," he said defensively. "It was just a bit of fun."

"A bit of fun?" Aemond thundered. "You could have seriously hurt your brother. You know better than that."

Aenys hung his head, ashamed. He knew that his father was right. He had let his desire to win get the better of him, and he had hurt someone he loved in the process.

Meanwhile, Daenera had rushed over to her younger son's side. She knelt down beside him and took him in her arms, soothing him as he sobbed with pain and fear.

"It's all right, my sweet boy," she murmured, stroking his hair. "You're safe now. Mama's got you."

Daeron clung to his mother, still shaking with adrenaline and shock.

As Aemond continued to scold Aenys for his behavior, Daenera tried to comfort both of her sons. She knew that this incident would leave a lasting mark on their relationship, and she was determined to do what she could to heal the rift between them. But it wouldn't be easy. The trust that had once existed between the brothers had been shattered, and it would take time and effort to rebuild it.

Daenera took her son up to her room and looked at his injuries with concern. Daeron's arms and legs were covered in bruises where Aenys' wooden sword had struck him. She gently probed each one, making sure that there were no broken bones.

"You're going to be all right, my love," she said soothingly. "It looks like these are just bruises. They'll hurt for a while, but they'll heal."

Daeron nodded, still shaken from the experience.

Daenera took a damp cloth and began to clean the cuts on Daeron's face. As she worked, she spoke to him softly, trying to calm him down.

"I know this was scary, my sweet boy," she said. "But you're safe now. I won't let anyone hurt you."

He nodded again, feeling a little better. He knew that his mother loved him and would do anything to protect him.

As she continued to attend to her son's injuries, she couldn't help but feel angry with Aenys. She knew that he had always been competitive, but this was too far. She would have to talk to him and make sure that he understood the seriousness of what he had done.

But for now, she focused on her younger son, tending to his wounds and soothing his fears. She knew that this incident would leave a mark on him, but she was determined to make sure that he knew he was loved and protected.

Daenera gently lifted her son into her arms and cradled him close to her chest. She could feel his warm breath against her skin as she began to sway back and forth, rocking him in her embrace.

"I'm going to be brave next time." He whispered.

"No. No, next times. We don't hurt people."

Daeron's little hands clutched at her shirt as he snuggled closer, seeking the comfort of his mother's touch. She smiled down at him, her heart swelling with love for her precious boy.

As she continued to rock him, she felt a familiar tug at her breast. She knew what her son wanted, and without hesitation, she sat down and shifted him to her other arm and began to breastfeed him.

Daeron closed his eyes and suckled contentedly, his little body relaxing in his mother's arms. She stroked his hair and hummed softly, the warmth from their bodies mingling in the small space they shared.

Minutes passed, and the room grew quiet, save for the sound of Daeron's soft breathing as he drifted off to sleep. She continued to hold him, her love for her son filling her heart to overflowing.

"My little Aenar." She whispered.

As she sat there in the quiet, peaceful moment with her sleeping son in her arms, she heard the sound of footsteps approaching. She turned her head to see her husband, Aemond, standing in the doorway.

For a moment, she simply looked at him, taking in his stern expression and the way his arms were crossed tightly over his chest. She knew that look well. It meant he was about to say something she wouldn't like.

"What are you doing?" Aemond asked.

Daenera raised an eyebrow, not understanding what he meant. "What do you mean? I was feeding him."

Aemond's expression darkened further. "We talked about this Danny he's too old for that. You should stop."

She felt a flare of anger rise up inside of her. How dare he tell her what she could and couldn't do with their son? "He's not too old," she replied firmly. "He's only three."

"He's old enough to eat solid food," Aemond countered. "He doesn't need to be breastfed anymore. You're spoiling him."

Daenera felt her blood boil at the implication. She had always been a devoted mother, doing everything she could to ensure her son's happiness and wellbeing. And now Aemond was suggesting that she was somehow doing it wrong?

"I am not spoiling him," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I am giving him what he needs. And if you don't like it, then that's your problem."

Before he could say anything more, she stood up, still holding their sleeping son. She walked past him, brushing past his arm as she did so.

"You're wrong, Aemond," she said over her shoulder. "You're so wrong." And with that, she walked out of the room, leaving Aemond standing there alone.

As she made her way to the Daeron's room and lay him down in his crib, she felt a sense of sadness wash over her. She loved her husband, but sometimes it seemed like they were on completely different pages when it came to their son.